


A Difficult Day

by xxSparksxx



Category: Poldark (TV 2015), Poldark - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Post-Season/Series 02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-13
Updated: 2016-11-13
Packaged: 2018-08-30 19:30:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,890
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8546227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxSparksxx/pseuds/xxSparksxx
Summary: Prompt: Jeremy frustrating Demelza because nothing will do until he sees his father. 
In which Jeremy has a difficult day.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rainpuddle13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainpuddle13/gifts).



> A fluff fic requested by rainpuddle13 some weeks ago, to cheer her up. I held off on posting it until s2 had finished airing. This is set in the interval between ‘Warleggan’ and ‘The Black Moon’ (ie, between seasons two and three). Beta-read by the wonderful mmmuses.

“No!”

Demelza shared an exasperated look with Prudie. Jeremy’s favourite word, today, had been ‘no’, with ‘shan’t’ coming in a close second. All day it had been a struggle with him. First to get him dressed, then to persuade him to eat breakfast – porridge had, apparently, been out of favour today. After that he had gone out into the yard and chased the chickens, though he knew it was forbidden, he’d refused to wash his hands and face for dinner, and when Prudie had told him he must either wash or have no dinner at all, he had stomped his foot and run off to his bedroom to have a long sulk. Demelza had left him alone until he reappeared, several hours later, and then she had let him have some bread and butter and made no comment when he trailed her around for the rest of the afternoon. He had been better behaved since then, letting Prudie wash his face before supper, and he’d eaten nicely, with no complaints. But now it was bedtime, and Jeremy was refusing to go.

Demelza knew why, of course. Jeremy had made it quite clear; he’d been upset from the moment he had woken up and discovered that his father had gone out. Usually a merry, peaceable child, when he had discovered that Ross had gone before he had even woken up, Jeremy had worked himself up into a true Poldark black mood. And truthfully – though she would not let Jeremy see it – Demelza couldn’t really blame him for being so disappointed. Ross had promised to take Jeremy riding this morning, a great treat, and then afterwards to see the engine house at Wheal Grace – a thing that had fascinated their son since the very first time he’d seen it. At barely three years old, Jeremy could not understand the engine, but he loved to watch it working, and regularly asked Ross to let him go and see it again. Ross had at last given in, with a greater show of reluctance than he’d truly felt, and Jeremy’s happiness had been loud and exuberant. 

But yesterday evening, after Jeremy had been put to bed, a letter had come from Truro that had sent Ross haring off into town the next morning before Jeremy had woken. Demelza had tried to explain that Ross had business to take care of, and that must come first, but a three-year-old boy was not the most reasonable of creatures, and all Jeremy seemed to understand was that his father had broken his promise to him. Demelza had hoped that Ross would be home long before now, with time enough, perhaps, to at least take Jeremy for a ride down to the cove and back, for he’d promised his business wasn’t anything that would keep him overnight. But Ross had not come, and Jeremy was close to having a proper tantrum about it.

“Now see here, Master Jeremy,” said Prudie, putting her hands on her hips. “’Tis long past time you was in bed, an’ there’s no good sayin’ no about it. Up those stairs you go, or you’ll feel my hand on your backside!”

“No!” Jeremy said again. He was squatting on the floor of the parlour, his arms wrapped around the leg of the table in an attempt to keep from being moved. His scowl was as ferocious as Ross’s, but on a child it was less fearsome. 

“Jeremy,” Demelza said, striving for patience, though she was as frustrated as Prudie. “I’ll read you a story, wouldn’t you like that?”

“No!” Jeremy said. “Want _Papa_ to read a story.”

“Papa isn’t back yet,” Demelza pointed out. She stepped closer to her son and reached out to him. “Come on, now, my lover. T’will all look better in the morning.” Ross would be back by morning, and Demelza would of course tell him about Jeremy’s disappointment. But quite apart from that, Jeremy was in need of a good night’s sleep. Demelza was a firm believer in the power of a night’s sleep to set fractious children to rights. She hadn’t had such problems with Julia, who had never grown old enough for it, but Mrs Zacky had more than enough experience with young children, and she swore by a hot cup of milk, if milk was to be had, and then a good, long sleep.

“No, won’t,” Jeremy said. His face was red, and he looked dangerously close to tears. “Papa _promised_. He said go on Darkie and go to mine – he said _today_ , Mama!”

“Yes, I know he did,” Demelza said, straightening up with a sigh. Ross had used those words, in fact – ‘I promise’. She must remind Ross not to make promises to Jeremy if there was the slightest chance of the promises being broken. Jeremy was, at least for now, far too literal to understand that sometimes circumstances changed, and outings must be postponed. To Jeremy, a promise was unbreakable. And so he was refusing to go to bed, because it was still today, and Ross had promised. 

“T’isn’t happenin’, Master Jeremy, and you best get used to it,” said Prudie, less patient than Demelza. “Now come ‘ere.” She lunged forward and made a grab for Jeremy, but he was much quicker than she was. He darted out, underneath her arm, and straight towards the parlour door.

He ran into Ross’s legs, hard enough that he was knocked back onto his rear. Jeremy looked up at his father, who looked down at him with a puzzled expression, and then the over-tired, over-wrought boy burst into tears.

“What’s all this?” Ross demanded. Then, before Demelza could reach Jeremy, Ross bent over and scooped him up into his arms. The boy sobbed piteously, and hid his face against his father’s shoulder. “Come now, Jeremy,” Ross said. “I like a better welcome home than that.” He jiggled Jeremy a little, trying to soothe him, and looked enquiringly at Demelza.

“Jeremy has had a trying day,” she said, somewhat delicately. “Prudie, would you put the stew to heat? And cut some more bread.” Ross stepped out of Prudie’s way, and then came close enough for Demelza to kiss him in welcome and smooth a hand over their son’s hair. “There now, Jeremy, calm down,” she said. “Papa don’t want his coat made all wet, do he?”

Jeremy sniffed and lifted his head. “You _promised_!” he accused Ross. “You _promised_ go ride Darkie with you, Papa!”

Demelza had been afraid that Ross had forgotten entirely, but it seemed not, for he settled Jeremy more firmly on his hip and nodded gravely.

“I did indeed,” he said. “I beg your pardon, Jeremy. It could not be avoided. Demelza, might I trouble you for a handkerchief?” Once the item was produced, Ross carried Jeremy to a chair and proceeded to dry his son’s eyes. Demelza settled down close by and listened, with a combination of frustration and amusement, as Jeremy poured out his tale of woe. How upset he had been to wake and find his father gone, how Prudie had been nasty to him, and how Jeremy had not been able to go to bed because Ross had promised to take him riding, and to the mine, and he’d promised to do it _today_. More than once Ross met Demelza’s glance, his eyes twinkling with merriment, and Demelza’s frustration began to ebb away. At last Jeremy stopped crying, and rested his weary head against Ross’s shoulder once more. 

“What a difficult day you seem to have had,” Ross said gently. “But I know Mama will have told you that I had to go.” Jeremy said nothing. He pouted a little. Then he nodded his head, slowly.

“Yes,” he mumbled. Then he sighed restlessly. “But I wanted _you_ , Papa,” he said. Demelza didn’t miss the flash of pleasure that entered Ross’s expression for a moment at hearing that, and she had to hide her own smile.

“He did indeed,” she confirmed. “Nothing I could do pleased him, today. I felt most unwanted.”

“Oh, now, we can’t have that,” said Ross, speaking to Jeremy but looking at Demelza, meeting her teasing glance with his own. “You want Mama, don’t you, Jeremy?” He nudged the boy off his knee. “Go and give her a kiss to tell her so, and then you may come and look in my coat pocket before you go to bed.”

“Is it a present?” Jeremy asked, his face lighting up. “Present for me, Papa?”

“Kiss Mama first,” Ross commanded. Jeremy trotted across to Demelza, who offered her cheek and received a rather wet kiss. Then Jeremy went back to Ross and proceeded to investigate all of Ross’s coat pockets in turn. Ross bore it patiently, though he rolled his eyes at Demelza. At last Jeremy emerged, triumphant, with a small paper package tied with string.

“Is it sweets?” he demanded, trying to pull the string away.

“If it was sweets, Papa knows better than to give them to you now,” said Demelza. “Or he’d be as naughty as you’ve been, today.” Ross lifted an eyebrow, a silent enquiry as to what of Jeremy’s behaviour had been left out from the child’s recitation of the day’s events, but Demelza shook her head. Later would be soon enough. Jeremy hadn’t been so _very_ naughty, after all, and he’d missed his dinner, which was punishment enough without making him bear Ross’s displeasure as well.

At last Jeremy managed to open the package, and was delighted to find half a dozen new tin soldiers to add to the small army that he was accumulating. He beamed at Ross, and then brought the toys to Demelza to show her. 

“Very nice,” she praised. “And now it’s bedtime, Jeremy. You’re far too late as it is.”

“Papa, will you read a story?” Jeremy asked, turning an angelic expression on his father. “Please,” he added, when Demelza nudged him gently. “Please will you read me a story?”

“Of course,” said Ross. “But only if you’re washed and in bed when I come upstairs in ten minutes.”

With that incentive, Jeremy hastened from the room. Demelza heard him speak quite cheerfully to Prudie, and the sound of their footsteps on the stairs. Then she leaned back in her chair and tried to look cross.

“What a day I’ve had with him, all on account of you making him that promise,” she said to Ross. “’Tis all very well giving him more tin soldiers, but what do I get to make up for it, I’d like to know?”

“Come over here and I’ll show you,” said Ross, smirking a little. Demelza laughed and shook her head.

“Oh, no,” she said. “You’ve to be upstairs in ten minutes, or you’ll disappoint Jeremy again – and I know that look, Cap’n Poldark. You’d be a mite longer than ten minutes if I come over there now.”

“My wife is a hard taskmaster,” Ross observed to the air. He rose, came to her, and bent over for a kiss. Demelza gave it gladly, and then pinched his earlobe.

“Off upstairs,” she ordered. “Go on. Supper’ll be waiting when you get down.” Ross kissed her once more, briefly, and then he went to follow his son. Demelza closed her eyes, and yawned, and hoped that Jeremy would be in a better mood tomorrow.


End file.
